The Lawman’s Deadly Bargain (Mystic Lake Mystery #3)

Chapter One

Beau gripped the long handle of the ax with both hands, then raised it above his head and brought it down with a satisfying whumpf, splitting the log in two.

He already had more than enough firewood stacked by his shed to get him through the next eastern Tennessee winter and they were only a month into summer.

But mindless exercise, pushing himself to the point of exhaustion all day, every day, was the best way he’d discovered to keep from doing the one thing he didn’t want to do.

Think.

It was the downtimes, when his body finally gave out and he was forced to sit, that the what ifs, the regrets came rushing in. Nights were the worst. It was all he could do to survive the long, dark hours before dawn until he could get up and do it all over again.

Run.

Swim.

Chop.

And sometimes, when nothing would drown out the memories, the reprisals, the self-recriminations for even one more minute, he’d pound his fists against the trunk of a tree until his knuckles bled.

Stop it. Don’t think. Do.

He raised the ax again and brought it down on the next log, disintegrating it into kindling that rained down onto the pile of neatly stacked wood.

“Whoa. That was impressive.”

He turned at the sound of the feminine voice with a barely noticeable Spanish accent, his hands still gripping the ax’s long handle.

A petite young woman with long nearly black hair, wearing a tight black T-shirt and black leather shorts was leaning against a tree about twenty feet away, holding up her hands as if in surrender.

“I come in peace.” She smiled, the gold hoops in her ears, necklaces and rings on her fingers winking in the sunlight.

He set the ax on top of the woodpile.

“Can I help you?”

“I can wait. Keep chopping wood. I’m thoroughly enjoying all those glistening muscles. Awesome six-pack, by the way. And those well-defined pecs and mouth-watering biceps would make me weak in the knees if I was a weak-in-the-knees kind of girl. You’ve definitely got it going on.”

Frowning at her ridiculousness, he reached for the towel he’d left on a stump. He quickly brushed off the worst of the wood dust and sweat then pulled his discarded T-shirt over his head.

She sighed as if disappointed, drumming her nails against a rose-and-vine tattoo on her right thigh. “You had to ruin the show.”

He shook his head in exasperation. “You must be lost. This is private property.”

She straightened away from the tree, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow, her blood-red lips the exact same shade as her surprisingly short but neatly shaped fingernails. “I know exactly where I am, Chief Dawson. Or should I call you Beau?”

His senses went on high alert. Who was she? What was she up to? She looked oddly familiar. But he doubted he could have met someone so over the top sexy with such a brash attitude and forget. So why did he feel as if he should know her?

“I’d prefer that you call me Chief Dawson. Who are you?”

“Not into foreplay, huh? I don’t mind if the main course is as good as the package promises it would be.”

In his sex-crazed college years, he’d have been tripping over his tongue because of her sexual innuendos. But he was older now, wiser, and knew better than to fall for the fake act she was putting on.

“You need to leave.” He started toward her to direct her off his land.

“Wait. Hold on.” Her playful mood disappeared and her dark eyes displayed an intelligence and intensity that had been lacking until now. “You asked if you could help me. The answer is yes. That’s why I’m here.”

He positioned himself directly in front of her, subtly looking for weapons in case this was a setup. It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal or one of their family members went after a person in law enforcement for revenge over some real or imagined slight.

Her tight outfit didn’t leave many possible hiding places for a weapon. But he wasn’t letting down his guard. The list of enemies he’d made through the years was long and deadly, one of the downsides to his chosen career.

“Typically people who need help from the police call the station or 911. They don’t trespass on the police chief’s private property.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not typical.”

No kidding. “You don’t appear to be hurt. You’re not glancing over your shoulder as if someone’s after you. Why are you here, at my home, instead of at the Mystic Lake police station if you need assistance?”

She hesitated, her teeth tugging at her plump bottom lip.

The sudden rush of his pulse in his ears proved he wasn’t as unaffected by her as he’d thought. But all that did was spike his temper and make him more determined to get rid of her. He had things to do, like break open a new bottle of whiskey and watch a rerun of last year’s Super Bowl.

“Lady, I don’t have time for your games.”

“No games. Just some harmless flirting. I really do need your help. But, uh, going to a police station doesn’t work for me.”

“Why not?”

She remained silent, her almond-shaped eyes glancing away as if she was suddenly unsure of herself. But he didn’t believe that. There was nothing shy or nervous about this woman. She was gorgeous and knew it and was obviously used to getting her way by using that beauty as a weapon.

“We’re done.” He grabbed her arm, once again intending to lead her off his property. His world suddenly tilted as she flipped him over her shoulder. He landed flat on his back.

Ignoring the pain radiating through his body, he kicked out, swiping her legs out from under her, dropping her down on top of him. Before she could recover from her obvious shock, he grabbed her wrists and rolled, pinning her beneath him with her arms above her head.

“Madre de Dios.” She stared up at him in wide-eyed surprise. “I guess there’s a reason you were the chief of police.”

“Were? I’m still the chief.”

“You sure about that? What time is it?”

“What difference does that make?”

“The difference between you being the current or former chief. The mayor’s holding a secret meeting this morning at your police station.

The town council will be there, along with those who will speak for or against you.

At the end of the meeting, the mayor and his minions will vote on whether or not to fire you.

Smarmy, huh? The mayor put you on administrative leave while the town deals with the Jericho lawsuit and then, while you’re home, he tries to get rid of you, permanently, all behind your back. ”

The dig about the lawsuit hit him hard, threatening to pull him to the dark place he tried to avoid day in and day out by not thinking about it.

Careful to keep his expression blank, he considered her claim.

He was supposed to meet with the mayor and the town’s lawyers early next week to find out whether there was any progress in getting the Jerichos to agree to a settlement.

If the mayor was really doing what she’d said, he would have given Beau notice and a chance to speak on his own behalf.

Wouldn’t he? One of his officers would have notified him, if nothing else.

She had to be lying. But why? What did she have to gain?

“If this alleged meeting is a secret, how do you know about it?”

“I have my ways.”

“Crystal ball? Tarot cards?”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Is it my black leather shorts or the tattoos that have you acting like a condescending gringo?”

“Who the hell are you, Chiquita?”

She tried to jerk her arms free, but he held on tight. When she didn’t answer, he decided this had gone on long enough. “We’re done.” He rolled off her, jumped to his feet and headed toward his cabin.

“Hey. Wait.” He heard her getting up, followed by the sound of her footsteps as she hurried after him in stilettos, of all things. Not exactly what people normally wore around here. She obviously wasn’t used to the rugged terrain of the eastern Tennessee mountains. “We’re not finished talking.”

“We never really started.” He jogged up the steps to his front porch. “You keep going in circles and still haven’t told me your name.”

He pushed the door open and half turned to look at her. “I’ll call one of my officers and ask about the so-called secret meeting, just for kicks. And you’re going to get off my land. If you’re still here when I return, I’ll arrest you for trespassing.”

He stepped inside and started to push the door shut.

“Sierra Covington,” she called out. “That’s my name.”

He froze, alarm bells going off in his head. Was it even possible that she was the Sierra Covington? He’d seen pictures of the entire family, many times, as part of official notices from the FBI and other agencies. Was that why she seemed so familiar?

After grabbing his service weapon from the entryway table, he eased the door open halfway, keeping the pistol concealed from view.

She stood at the bottom of the steps, just in front of his police SUV parked out front. Her dark eyes searched his as she waited for his reaction.

“Sierra Covington? Any relation to Michael Covington? As in Memphis-Tennessee-crime-boss Michael Covington?”

“He’s my father.”

“Aw, hell.”

Her eyes narrowed.

He looked past her down the long driveway.

It was a good hundred yards to the road out front, with twists and turns surrounded by trees and thick brush.

The upside was that no one could see his house from the street.

That was also the downside. Someone could be parked out front and he’d never know they were there.

Until now, that had never bothered him. Now he was thinking he needed a major security upgrade.

“Where’s your Lamborghini?” he asked.

“My what?”

“You’re a Covington. I assume you’ve got a car somewhere, one that costs more than I make in a year.”

“Jealous much?”

“More like aggravated that crime does indeed pay, in your case.”

“You do realize you’re being a judgmental jerk, right? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you didn’t walk here from Memphis. Did you come alone, or is your father and a group of thugs waiting just out of sight to ambush me for some reason?”

“Ah. That’s what you’re worried about. I’m fresh out of thugs today. And my father doesn’t know I’m in Mystic Lake. I managed to drive here all by myself. My car’s parked on the road out front.”

“So you could sneak up the driveway and surprise me?”

She crossed her arms. “I wanted to check out my surroundings, see what was going on before announcing myself.”

“You wanted to make sure I was alone.” His hand tightened on his pistol grip behind his back.

She rolled her eyes. “Since being placed on administrative leave, you’ve been up here living like a hermit. If someone was actually here with you, that would have been a surprise.”

“Who the hell is feeding you information?”

Silence.

He looked down the driveway again, scanning the nearest trees.

“If someone is out there playing some kind of shenanigans, planning to jump me…” He pulled the pistol out from behind the door, holding it down by his side but clearly visible.

“Don’t expect me to go down without taking a good many of you with me. ”

Her dark gaze fell to the gun before looking up again. “No shenanigans. I’m alone. All I want is to talk. Ten minutes of your time.” Then, as if it pained her to say it, she added, “Por favor.”

If it wasn’t for the note of desperation in her voice, he’d have closed the door right then.

But that desperation and the intensity of her expression gave her request a ring of truth.

Daughters of powerful crime bosses didn’t make a habit of seeking out members of law enforcement.

There had to be a compelling reason for her to have driven up in the Smoky Mountains, seemingly alone, standing on a police chief’s porch.

And the police chief in him was itching to know what that reason was.

Hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake, he tucked his pistol into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. “I’ll have to pat you down for weapons before I let you inside.”

Her lips curved in a slow sexy smile, the sly temptress reappearing. “Be as thorough as you’d like, Beau. I promise I won’t resist.”

He ignored her latest come-on and made quick work of ensuring she didn’t have any knives or a gun tucked away somewhere.

Even though the contact was quick and as impersonal as possible, his hands practically burned where they touched the generous curves through her clothes.

She was dangerous in more ways than one.

When he stepped back, she sighed dramatically, as if disappointed. “Go slower next time. Make it last.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“I doubt you’ll say that when my ten minutes is up.”

“I’ll give you five. The clock’s ticking.” He held open the door.